


Butterfly On the Windowsil

by dreamsquirrel



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Language, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsquirrel/pseuds/dreamsquirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brunette shuffled his way down the street, a messy bouquet of flowers in his hand. Hell, Jean hadn't been used to these kind of things, carrying around flowers and whatnot, especially in this kind of situation. The petals bounced with each one of his steps, the white color dulling in the afternoon light. No, he wasn't any sort of nervous, since he had done this the past two years on this day. No, he wasn't taking this to any girl, he had no date tonight -not even the lady-killer Jean Kierschtein had set up a date with some babe for today, but he was taking these flowers to someone special.<br/>His name was Marco Bodt: best friend, loving son, someone full of life and love, even in memory.<br/>Well, that's what it said on his tombstone, anyhow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterfly On the Windowsil

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Strap your seatbelts, fellow JeanMarco fans, since this fic is going to be a sad one. It was kind of inspired by a post floating around tumblr about Marco being an "Angel With a Shotgun" and protecting Jean even after death. So, I wrote a modern AU kind of about the same thing, just Marco watching over Jean in some way or another. Anyway, any comments/reviews/kudos are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Happy Reading!

"Believers, look up - take courage. The angels are nearer than you think." - Billy Graham

* * *

 

 

The brunette shuffled his way down the street, a messy bouquet of flowers in his hand. Hell, Jean hadn't been used to these kind of things, carrying around flowers and whatnot, especially in this kind of situation. The petals bounced with each one of his steps, the white color dulling in the afternoon light. No, he wasn't any sort of nervous, since he had done this the past two years on this day. No, he wasn't taking this to any girl, he had no date tonight -not even the lady-killer Jean Kierschtein had set up a date with some babe for today, but he was taking these flowers to someone special.

His name was Marco Bodt: best friend, loving son, someone full of life and love, even in memory.

Well, that's what it said on his tombstone, anyhow. Jean wouldn't disagree with it, but he would disagree with the fact that the freckled male was supposed to have a grave right now, since Marco didn't deserve to die so suddenly. Marco was a good soul, taught Jean a whole lot about the world whether he wanted to or not; he taught him what it felt like to laugh so hard, he cried, to cry so hard he laughed at himself, to lead and to follow and to stand side-by-side with someone who meant nearly the world to him. No, scratch that, probably the whole world to him, since Marco was just.... _Marco._

No one could ever replace the guy, no matter how hard anyone tried to.

Jean wouldn't let them. Not Jaeger or that Armin kid, not even Jean's forever-crush Mikasa could break down that wall. No one could ever be a larger part of his soul than Marco, since no one else was Marco, and no one ever could be.

It wasn't like he was sobbing over this every day and night like he was for a good few months after his friend's death, but he didn't feel like himself anymore. He just couldn't get used to the lack of " _Jeeeannnn! It's morning!_ " or " _Jean, let's go hang out today, 'kay?_ " in his ears from Marco. Yeah, it'd been a couple years, but he could still hear Marco's giggle as if the raven was right next to him. He could practically feel the warmth of Marco's bright personality beside him when he walked down the street like this, but he felt so cold when he turned his head to see that the raven wasn't there.

So he'd just been numb.

Not even ridiculous amounts of alcohol could drown out the memories, so he gave up and tried to just go on with life even though a part of him didn't feel like living it anymore. Yeah, Marco had died, but that night it felt like Jean had too.

Said male loosened his tie as he made his way to the cemetery, glad that it was empty besides the pearly white graves poking out from the grass. They almost looked golden as the sun slowly began its descent. Jean fell too, plopping right beside a simple looking cross with the raven's name etched into it. The brunette didn't even want to read the name, since he had been to this grave so many times before. He knew who it was.

Jean set the flowers down, causing them to rustle against the grass, and after that was silence.

Though silence hung in the air, to Jean, sitting here was one of the loudest places he could be. No, words were not splitting his ears, there were no car horns blaring, the near-shattering sensation he felt was the sheer realization was that his best friend in the entire world was six feet under him.

"H-Hey, buddy," Jean stuttered, breaking the silence. He took a deep breath, admiring the clearness of the air despite the choking sensation in his throat. "You're not gonna believe what Jaeger tried to do today..." He laughed half-heartedly, doing his best not to put too much emotion in his words. It wasn't that he didn't care about talking to Marco, it was that he was afraid that his emotion would overflow. He hated crying, especially around Marco.

"...and the best part though, was that Levi was crazy pissed off. He was turning as red as his fucking sponge _which_ he did peg at Jaeger's face," Jean chuckled as he leaned back to watch the sky, it was a pleasant gold color now. "Of course, that was when he took the feather-duster he had and swatted the kid to death with it. Yeah, Mikasa punched my arm for laughing so hard, but hey, if you saw it, you'd cry from laughing so hard." He shook his head back and forth, eyes gazing at the orange clouds that rolled by in fluffy clumps.

_Can you see them, Marco?_

"So yeah, I mean, it was a pretty crazy day today..." Jean trailed off in thought, then swallowed back the lump in his throat. "They miss you."

_Ain't it beautiful, Marco?_

"I mean, they don't always show it, but I can tell we're not the same group as we were before, and that's not just because we're graduating soon."

He thought back to before that damned day, when the whole gang would run around town on their summer vacation, calling themselves the 104th squad, since they were going to be the 104th class to graduate from their high school. They were just starting out at high school then. Eren (Jaeger), Mikasa, and Armin had been a power trio since they were in diapers, then Sasha and Connie came along...

_Then there was us, huh?_

Levi and Erwin were a couple of teachers that watched over them all now and then to see what the first-years were going on and on about, being the best in their class and going off to do awesome things. The 104th squad was a very passionate and ambitious bunch, with a flame in their eyes like no other. And what was great was that they were all good at something -besides Mikasa, who was good at almost everything, but that's Mikasa.

"You know, I think you were the spark that ignited us all," the words escaped Jean's lips before he could bite them back.

Jean could remember how Marco was always smiling and shaking everyone's shoulders, cheering them up when they were down, being the umbrella in the darkest of storms. But now, it seemed like that umbrella had been blown away.

The male let his eyes slip shut as a memory pushed its way to the front of Jean's mind.

  
_He could feel a spring breeze on his back, and when his eyes opened, he saw the bright afternoon sky of his first day of kindergarten. Jean raised his hands in the air and stretched, a little yawn escaping him. The sun was warm like a fuzzy blanket on his skin, and the wind ran its fingers through his hair, making him feel a little sleepy. It was almost_ too _nice out, since Jean could have fallen asleep out here. Well, it was until he heard some yelling._

_"What are those things on your face?" said one boy's voice, and laughed._

_"Ew, it looks like a bunch of dirt, do we need to clean it off for you?" Another boy sneered, causing Jean to turn his head._

_There were two kids craning above a third one, and those two kids must have knocked the other one down since the third kid had his butt on the ground and he was gaping up at the others._

_"N-No! It's natural!" stammered the third boy, a kid with either black hair or very dark brown hair, Jean couldn't tell from where he was standing. "They're called freckles!"_

_"Ha!" snorted one of the bullies, "Looks like you got a bunch of dirt on your face." Jean's eyes widened as he watched the other punk open a water-bottle behind his back._

_"Hey!" Jean shouted, but it looked like none of them were paying attention. A scowl on his face, the young Jean started to march over to them._

_The one boy on the floor gasped when he heard the snap of a water bottle. "How about we clean you up!" snickered the second bully as he raised the bottle behind him. And then, it was flung._

SPLASH!

_Ice cold water flew into the air, but didn't land on its intended target. Yes, the bully had aimed right for the little freckle-covered kid, but what he hit was someone else entirely._

_Jean had darted in front of the kid, just in time to take the hit. As much as he wanted to hiss at the freezing cold water that was seeping into his shirt, he turned his attention to the pair of bullies who had made the unfortunate decision to splash a kid who didn't look like he could defend himself._

Jean could practically feel that cold water running down his shirt.

_"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jean growled at the two kids, staring them down like a vulture at a carcass. The two kids were from some other class, but they had the same recess, that's all Jean knew about them. Or, at least that's all he cared to know about them. Oh, and the fact that Jean was a head taller than them, so he was able to tower over them unforgivingly. "Save splashing kids for the pool, got it? Leave this kid alone!"_

The male chuckled as he remembered those two punks practically running for their lives. "I was such a badass back then. No, I'm still pretty badass," he snickered to Marco.

_Jean turned around to face the kid on the ground who had started sniffling. Crap, Jean didn't scare him too, did he? The boy's big brown eyes were glossy with tears and the brunette made a shocked sound in his throat. "Why are you crying!?" Jean gasped, and the boy started to full-out sob._

_"Y-You..!" the boy wailed, "You saved me! You even got w-water all over yourself, I'm sorry!"_

_"Hey, hey, hey!" Jean answered him and knelt down so they could meet eye to eye. "Don't cry, kid. Those guys were just being big jerks, you don't have to cry. And this?" Jean tugged on his soggy shirt and grinned, "This is nothing. What's your name?"_

_"M-Marco..." sniveled the boy, wiping his running nose on his sleeve. It was then that Jean noticed the little brown flakes that danced on the kid's cheeks and nose. Freckles, huh? They were kind of cute. Did girls get those too?_

_Jean leaned back and rested his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest to make him seem like he was more heroic. "Well then, Marco, you won't have to worry about any bullies no more! I'm Jean, and I'm gonna make sure those meanies don't mess with you again!" He announced, earning a gasp from Marco, "Let's be friends, got it?" Jean held out his hand for the kid to take, but the other was stunned._

_Suddenly, a massive grin spread across Marco's freckled cheeks, and he grabbed Jean's hand, his eyes sparkling and not just with tears._

_"Y-Yeah!"_

 The little cheer rang in Jean's head as he laid back in the grass beside Marco, letting the breeze grace over his suit. Hell yeah he dressed nice to visit Marco, he'd feel disrespectful if he didn't. Though, Jean knew Marco would probably laugh and call him silly for such a thing, but Jean would dress nice if he damn well pleased! The male found himself laughing again. "Dude, you were such a crybaby," he sighed, "Always crying for some reason. It was kind of cute when we were kids, and then you grew out of it. Hell, I think you even got tougher than me." The brunette thought about that, those days where Marco would scrape his knee or twist his ankle or get one of those really red sunburns that stung like hell, he'd cry. Well, Marco used to anyway, but he grew out of that sometime around when Jean did.

  _Damn_ , Jean missed Marco.

 "You'd probably call me a crybaby too, if you saw me like this," Jean sighed and rubbed his eyes. He could feel the tears burning in the backs of them, and he would do everything he could to keep them there, where no one could see them. "It just... it just really sucks, man. Wish you were here, y'know?" He sniffled once and squeezed his eyes shut, then sucked in a breath. Yeah, here it comes, the shitty waterworks and snotty nose, the endless thoughts of what could have been and what would have been, all crashing down at once like a hardcore waterfall of tears. He laughed at his own display of misery, wiping his nose on his sleeve. If it wasn't for that damned fire... Jean could hear the flames lick and pop as he turned on his side to face Marco's grave.

_It was a slow afternoon during summer vacation, and their second year of highschool was just around the corner. The 104th squad had split up for the day, leaving Marco and Jean alone in the Bodt family's apartment. Marco's parents were out working, so it was just the two boys lounging around playing videogames. Jean thought it was some sort of racing game, but he couldn't quite remember. "Hey, Jean?" Marco's voice had piped up between the grumbles and grunts of competitive gaming._

_"Yeah?"  Jean answered through a mouthful of chips. The half-empty bag crinkled in protest as his whole body started turning sideways, as if that would make his turns any sharper. He wasn't really paying attention to what Marco was saying then, since the guy was three places ahead of him. The raven hesitated, allowing a car to close the gap between the two human players._

_"You... you don't have a girlfriend, right?"_

_"Hm?" Jean hummed through his snackage, sparing Marco a glance before fixing his focus back on the game. "Nah, there's way too many ladies to chose from for me!" He sighed jokingly, causing the other male to laugh._

_"C'mon, Jean, I'm serious!" Marco giggled._

Jean winced, that giggle in his head echoing painfully in his ears.

_"I'm serious about kicking your ass on this track!" Jean shot back, swerving his controller to the right and back to the left again, cursing as his car smacked and bumped against the walls. His brow crinkled as his nose did, his lips scrunching up in concentration. Marco just rolled his eyes, and the brunette was one car closer to him._

_"You...," the raven paused and swallowed thickly, trying to figure out the right way to put his thoughts to words, "...you haven't considered dating a boy--"_

_It was then then that a loud pinging bounced from wall to wall, masking any other sound in its way -including the rest of Marco's inquiry. Both boys winced and dropped their controllers, hands flying to their ears as their eyes darted frantically around the room._

_"Ach, what the hell?!" Jean cursed rather loudly, the rising stench of smoke seeping through the carpet and the door._

_"The fire alarm!" Marco shouted, jumping off the couch and over to Jean. "Someone must have set it off!"_

_"Smells like someone did," the other male replied, heading for the front door. "Where the hell is that coming from?! Doesn't matter, we just need to get out of here before shit gets crazy!" Jean didn't hear Marco's reply, but he saw as the raven followed after them. As soon as the door opened, a wave of smoke cascaded over the pair, causing both to hack and gag. The brunette's eyes stung as he covered his mouth with his arm._

_However, what lied behind the smoke was no happy sight either._

_Orange, crimson, and golden flames crawled and licked and popped along the walls of the hallway like some sort of massive ember beast. The heat caused both boys to break out into a sudden sweat, ash and sparks flying everywhere as the building started to fall apart._

_After that was all a blur to Jean, the adrenaline kicking in. They were running, trying to find the best way to get escape. It was fight-or-flight mode for both of them, but Marco chose the former. The brunette remembered a woman screaming, that she was trapped in her apartment and needed help, and although Jean could find an exit, he couldn't find a way to get Marco to follow him out. He remembered the flames ripping at Marco's clothes and skin, the stench of burning flesh making Jean want to vomit. He didn't think Marco trudging through burning furniture was any sort of cake-walk, but he knew that as heroic as it was, it was probably the dumbest thing that he could do._

_"Marco, what are you doing?!" Jean screamed over the roar of the fiery beast, but the raven didn't seem to hear him as he broke down the half-burning door. "MARCO GET OUT OF THERE!"_

_"JEAN, GO! I'LL BE FINE!" Marco answered him, turning for a moment to face him. His eyes were sharp and burned like the fire around him, and his voice was firm, that of a lion. "I'LL MEET YOU OUT--"_

_The woman's armoire had lost a leg in the fire's stomach, and the whole thing came crashing down like a burning wall of flame, crashing into Marco from the side._

_The world seemed to slow down, even stop for a few moments. The heat drenched Jean's skin, but for that moment, the brunette felt cold as he watched his best friend's form fall to the floor beneath the sizzling mass of wood. Jean exploded then, scrambling and ripping through the debris with his hands, despite the blisters popping up and breaking on his fingers. However, the efforts were fruitless as he felt a pair of huge gloved hands grab him from behind, yanking him out of the room and out of the building._

_Jean used his first breath of fresh air to scream._

"Marco," Jean groaned and covered his eyes with his hands. He didn't want to think about that day anymore. Even so, the memories of the days after were worse.

Marco was found dead in the rubble, the right half of his body charred black as the coffin he was laid in. Someone from the floor below him had left a cigarette burning, and it all went to hell from there. That was the best way that Jean could sum it up without breaking down and sobbing or wanting to burn the owner of that cigarette the way Marco had been.

The brunette sat up and rubbed his face, a little proud of himself for not completely sobbing all over his best friend's grave this year, but he still hated himself for shedding tears. He couldn't do this anymore, not today. He couldn't handle drowning in this seemingly endless ocean of agony, especially in front of Marco like this. So, Jean decided to rise to his feet, even though they felt like lead bricks. He rested his palm on the top of the white cross, patting it like he would as if it was a shoulder and sighed. "I'll always miss you, buddy. Happy Birthday, Marco"

He glanced down at the flowers for a moment before scanning over the gravestone once more, then turned to walk away. However, a thought struck the male's mind and he stopped to face Marco again. "Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you about the new project we got in Biology today. It's nothing real important, just a 'fun' thing." Jean raised up a hand and curled his fingers in air-quotes. "We have to raise caterpillars until they're butterflies. Yeah, I know it sounds really fucking stupid since we're about to graduate and doing a kindergarten thing, but the reason that we're doing it is because apparently they're supposed to carry wishes to the spirits or whatever bullcrap the teacher was spouting off." The male furrowed his brow and hesitated for a moment, before continuing.

"I don't really believe in that kind of thing, but if my wish gets granted, I'll be sure to let you know."

-x-

The project was odd, but sure enough, their teacher made them all raise butterflies in their own little cages anyway. Jean and the rest of the 104th squad felt like they were back in the third grade again, and even though the brunette hated the project, a part of him didn't mind it so much. He wasn't sure if he actually believed that a wish could be granted by a fucking _butterfly_ , but a part of him really _wanted_ to believe it. Especially for what he wished for.

A few weeks after the project began, the butterflies began to burst forth from their cocoons, expanding their wings and pumping blood through their veins so that they could fly around in their cages. If one wished to be poetic about it, one could say the little caterpillars earned their Wings of Freedom and were ready to venture on to the rest of their lives.

And so was the 104th squad in a few days.

However, today was a day that everyone was allowed to take their butterflies home so that they could release them around the area to make their wishes and pray they be granted. Though Jean had been laughing off the importance of the project the entire span of the time they worked on it, it was he who had truly felt the deepest about it, and he repeated his wish as he walked off the school grounds, wandering into town.

He found himself standing in front of Marco's grave again, holding up the little butterfly's container as if showing it off to Marco. He'd be pretty fascinated with it, Jean believed. Marco loved this kind of thing. The little creature fluttered around in the plastic box, it's black and white stripes burning brilliantly over it's wings. "It's a zebra longwing," Jean explained as it danced around in the box. "Pretty lame project, huh?" He lowered it down so he could hold the box in both hands, staring at it for a while. "I guess it's time for me to make my wish." His eyes glanced around, checking and double-checking to see if anyone was around to hear him. After assuring himself that no one around here just went to graveyards for fun, Jean closed his eyes and let out an even breath.

His wish was faint, just a whisper from his lips through the air holes of the butterfly holder, but the words were full of nothing but his heart.

_I don't even know how the hell I could believe in this shit._

The thought crossed his mind once or twice, but his inner-child, the part of him with any sort of hope left, clung onto this chance as if his own life was at stake. All he had to do now was open the box.

Tentative fingers pried the lid open, allowing the zebra-striped butterfly to escape. It fluttered around and danced in the open air, circling and tumbling, flapping its long wings out into the bright orange sky. Jean's eyes couldn't leave it, watching as the creature became nothing but a little black speck in the clouds. It turned a few times, eventually disappearing into only God knows where, and for a moment, Jean thought he could feel Marco standing beside him again, watching it too, making his head snap to the side. He felt his heart lurch, and all his hopes sprung forth into the thought that that damned day was all a nightmare, and here he was about to wake up. Marco would be there again, like he always ways, eyes bright as his charming smile. Color would bloom on his cheeks, turning his freckles darker than the paleness of death, and that laugh would ring in Jean's ears like an angel's choir.

Alas, the only thing beside him was that white stone cross.

Jean cursed and quickly looked away, throwing the container on the ground and causing the plastic lid to pop off completely. He turned, a cold feeling on his shoulders as he started walking out of the land of the dead, not even wanting to say a goodbye to the person who could never say it back.

_How the hell could I have believed in that crap?!_

The thoughts were plowing in his mind at full force now, the doubt closing in around his throat. The salt of tears burned through his eyes as he walked down the streets of town, trying to get home. _It's all a bunch of bullshit hocus-pocus anyway, fuck this!_ He mentally chastised himself for gambling his hopes into some fairy tale, face twisting in pain. The sudden shame he felt was like a cold slap in the face. He needed to wake up and face the reality that wishes like this, they couldn't come true. What he wanted was impossible, and he had known it all along.

He just hoped that he could forget for a little while.

In the midst of his self-deprecating thoughts, Jean found himself wandering into an alley. It was a usual shortcut from the cemetery to his house, but at this hour of the day, it was pretty creepy. Jean hadn't even realized that the sun had fallen into night, making him stop. Shadows lurched out everywhere against the walls, like monsters lying in wait. He didn't even notice the man behind him.

"Hey, kid!" A voice shouted from behind him, dark and scruff. A smoker, maybe. Jean froze. "I'm talking to you, you know. Didn't your mama tell you to answer when people spoke to you?"

"Yeah, but Mom also said not to talk to fucking creeps," Jean retorted, then turned to face the man. However, the only thing he faced was the barrel of a pistol. It was a deep black color; it was the kind of black that Jean thought of when he thought of oblivion. The gun clicked.

"Look smart-ass," the man growled at him, "Judging from your uniform, you look like you come from a pretty decent school, so you gotta have _some_ cash on you. Empty your pockets in the next five seconds or I'll paint the walls red, got it?"

Jean clicked his tongue, "I don't believe you. If you wanted my money, you could have just--"

_BLAM!_

A bullet zipped by the brunette's ear, just hairs away from ripping it off his head. The sound made Jean's ears ring, and he winced, sucking in a breath and locking eyes with the man.

"Got any other shit to say, punk?" grumbled the mugger's voice, "Now: 5..."

Jean didn't move.

"...4..."

This wasn't really happening, right?

"...3..."

Jean was frozen solid, not sure what to do. He would have thrown his wallet at the guy and ran, but his arms and legs refused to move.

"...2..."

A finger curled around the trigger, and Jean watched it for a moment before meeting eyes with the stranger again. His eyes were cold, dark, purely relentless. He definitely looked like the kind of guy that would kill if he had to.

"...1."

_Click._

Jean opened his mouth to scream, but the sound hadn't the time to escape his throat. White flashed before his eyes, and he felt himself falling backward, falling into the depths of the unknown, the endlessness of oblivion. All he could see was white, and all he could hear was the ringing of the gunshot. Yet, he felt no pain.

Was this what death was like? Was it this painless, just a burning bright whiteness?

_Marco, is this what it feels like to die?_

The thought hung in his mind, blocking away everything else until a hard smack on his back caused him to blink. The coolness of the concrete seeped through his clothes and brushed his skin, a reminder that he was still warm. His eyes adjusted to the sudden white, revealing that he was looking at no blank slate. He was not watching the immensity of death before him.

He was staring at wings.

White wings folded and unfolded in front of him, almost as tall as a person, and surely protruding from someone's back. However, the blinding light made it a little hard for Jean to see whoever the hell this bozo was in the all-white angel costume. Well, he shouldn't really call him that, since this guy had jumped in front of him. As the light settled, Jean could just see the person was holding something between his first finger and his thumb, a little grey lump.

"Y-You... you caught the bullet!" stammered the mugger in shock. Jean could hear the clatter of the gun being dropped to the floor, but it wasn't that fact that had caused Jean to gasp. No, what had caused Jean's heart to almost stop beating was the voice in which this hero had spoken.

"I did," Marco's voice rang out, "Now, if you could _please_ leave my friend alone, that'd be very helpful."

The angel didn't have to ask twice, since the man was screaming and flailing his limbs, fleeing for his life out of the alley as Jean slowly rose to his feet. He glanced down to dust himself off and then back up again, now able to see clearly.

Marco was standing there, illuminating the dark alleyway with his glowing white wings and clothes. He even had a little gold halo that hovered over his head, sparkling in the moonlight. When he turned, Jean grew pale, not sure what to believe.

For the first time in about two years, he was meeting eyes with Marco.

The angel gave Jean a soft grin, nothing goofy or silly, just gentle and sweet, the grin that Marco wore whenever he was trying to cheer his friend up. His freckles speckled his rosy cheeks, and his eyes were warm like hot chocolate on a cold winter's night. His raven hair still lined his forehead, neat and tidy as it usually was. "Jean," he spoke, his voice like a fleece blanket on Jean's shoulders.

" _Marco!_ " the brunette wailed and practically leapt into the angel's arms, holding him tight against his chest. He couldn't help the tears that spilled from his eyes and the way his shoulders shook with his sobs. He buried his face in Marco's shoulder, so his friend didn't have to see him crying. Was this real? Had the past two years been some awful nightmare, and this was real? He could feel Marco, he could hold him, he could cry on him, and Marco could wrap his arms around him too. Marco could breathe evenly for the most part, except the occasional sniffle or two that came from him. 

"'I want to see you again,'" Marco breathed, burying his nose in Jean's hair. "That's what you said, right?"

At that, Jean pulled away to lock eyes with him again. Jean's own orbs were red and puffy from sobbing, as was his nose, and he probably looked awful now, but he didn't have the time to care about that. "Yeah, t-to the butterfly," he stumbled on his words, quickly wiping his nose on his sleeve. Marco just smiled and reached up to hold Jean's face in his hands.

"Well, I wanted to see you again too," the angel spoke softly, that kind tone of voice that only his best friend knew. Yes, Marco showed compassion toward anyone, but with Jean, it was better. With Jean, Marco was even sweeter. "I can't stay for long, but I'm here Jean. I always have been." He wiped away Jean's tears with his thumbs, a pang of pain hitting his chest as he watched his friend break down inside and out. The other male couldn't take this anymore, falling to his knees. Marco floated down with him, holding his face still as he continued. "All those days that you've come to visit me, I've been there. I've answered back, but you can't usually hear me, and when I reach out to touch you, you don't feel me, but I'm here, Jean."

"H-How come I can't always see you then?" Jean coughed between his words, trying his best to keep a sob down, "How come of all times I  _needed_  you to be there, you show up _now_?"

Marco pulled one of his hands away to ruffle Jean's hair. There was hurt in his eyes, but he kept the warmth in his smile. Tears were forming, but he refused to let them go. "Jean, I've always been around. I've been watching over you since then, like your own personal guardian angel or something," Marco chuckled at himself before relaxing again. "I don't know how you can see me now, though. I'd thank the butterfly." He drew back and rose to his feet, helping Jean to his as the silence fell over them for a moment.

Jean kept looking Marco up and down, not sure if he had actually been shot or if any of this was actually real. It wasn't possible that a butterfly could carry a wish up into wherever the hell Marco came from and granted him some ability to be seen. It wasn't possible that Marco could actually be standing here before him, saying these things and actually  _living_ , right?

However, Marco slowly began to fade, as if becoming transparent.

"M-Marco!" Jean gasped, reaching out to grab a hold on to the angel's shoulders. "Wait, where are you going?! You can't show up out of no where and say all this cryptic shit, you _have_ to stay! Just a little longer!" He pleaded, tears flowing over his cheeks like a salt-water river. "I have so much to ask you, please _STOP_!" He shouted, but Marco just shook his head and held his friend's cheeks in his hands.

"Jean, listen to me," Marco whispered, resting his forehead against Jean's, "Everything will be okay, I promise. You weren't meant to die today, so we can't meet again any time soon. You have to live on, Jean, for both of us, got it? Keep living as much as you can."

"M-Marco, stop this! You can't just show up and go like this, you just can't!" Jean whined, but the angel didn't listen.

"I love you more than anything, Jean," he breathed, "You're my best friend in and out of this world. I promise you that we'll meet again one day, though, a long time from now."

"Marco, _please..._ " Jean's voice cracked as he croaked out. Marco's glow was fading now, the shadows closing in again.

"Jean," Marco sniffled, his voice wavering. Although he was almost gone, tears still sparkled in his eyes. He drew back so he could look at him full in the face again, meeting his gaze. "I will always be by your side, whether you can see me or not, and I'll love you until this world stops turning, until there's nothing left. Even then, I'll always be with you, okay?"

"Marco--"

"Shh..." the raven sighed and with his last moments, he pressed a kiss on Jean's forehead. "I love you, Jean."

"I love you too, Marco," Jean answered quickly, "But, Marco!"

However, the sensation of his friend's lips on his forehead ebbed away. The light around them, the warmth of Marco's skin on Jean's, everything faded away, leaving the male alone in the alley.

  
_This is cruel, Marco!_ Jean thought as he fell to the floor, knees scraping into the concrete and face burying in his palms. It was cruel of the freckled angel to appear before him, after all those months of missing him, then to vanish. He wanted to spend hours, days, the rest of his whole damn life with Marco, but yet he only got those few minutes with him.

Yet through this anger, this stifling agony, Jean couldn't help but be grateful. His best friend, Marco Bodt, the loving son, the one full of life and love, had earned his wings. He was able to live on in the world beyond this one in peace, free of any pain that only humans could imagine. Though Jean would have loved to know more from him, he was still able to appreciate the fact that Marco was an angel, even after death.

As Jean picked himself back up, he wiped his face of with his shirt, wondering how Marco was feeling. As he stumbled out the alley and into the lights of town, he couldn't help but think of what Marco wanted to do, if he was able to live again. The raven had never been in a relationship before, so maybe he would get married, have kids, be with a beautiful wife? Suddenly, the memory struck him, right before the fire alarm had gone off, Marco said something.

_"...dating a boy--"_

That was what he said, right? Jean knew Marco cared about him, but... had Marco loved him much more than Jean realized? The brunette blushed as he made his way through the crowd, his heart sinking as he lifted his head to watch the sky.

_"I love you, Jean."_

Marco was up there now, watching over him, and the only thing Jean could do was sit here in this world and feel like a complete idiot, now. How long had Marco felt like this? Jean wasn't sure, but he knew he would have to meet with the raven one day and ask, when his time came. But for now, he had a promise to keep. If Marco wanted him to live on, Jean would, no matter how much it hurt to not have his best friend beside him. It would hurt to not throw himself on Marco when he got himself hammered on his 21st birthday. It'd hurt not to throw his graduation cap up in the air an catch Marco's by mistake. It'd hurt all the time, no matter what.

But Jean had to keep living.

Marco was cruel to show up like this, to have such feelings that he'd never be able to express in this world, to remind Jean that his best friend wasn't alive anymore, but he was also kind in the fact that he was a reassurement. There was hope, there was something out there, that no human could explain, but Jean knew was safe. He knew Marco was able to watch him, wherever he was, and wherever that was, Marco was there. He wasn't gone, Jean just couldn't meet him yet.

Through his burning tears and heavy heart, Jean made his way home with only one thought in his mind.

_I want to see you again._

He climbed up the stairs, the wish repeating in his mind over and over again, like a broken record he wouldn't mind keeping. He was going to see Marco again, one day in the future. Maybe then, Jean could come to understand how Marco felt about him, and he to Marco. Marco was a special person, a best friend, a brother, maybe more than that. He had his whole life to figure it out, and when his day would come, Jean would know that Marco would be there to greet him.

Jean walked in his room and flopped on his bed, throwing his bag somewhere on the floor before grabbing a pillow and hugging it tight, but his gaze caught something else.

Although Jean knew he wouldn't see Marco again for a long, long time, that was okay. For now, he could just send a message to him from the little butterfly sitting on his windowsill.


End file.
